


Out of His League

by terraphim



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Hypothetical character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3625095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terraphim/pseuds/terraphim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place immediately after "Avengers," no spoilers for anything in Phase Two or "Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." Tony delivers some bad news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of His League

"Hey, Pep. You should probably sit down."

She’s just gotten to New York, to the tower she put so much work (certainly more than 12%) into, only to find several floors of it in rubble, the city around it like a garden wrecked by a hurricane. Even watching every moment on the news, seeing the crowds below wander around in shock, the famous landmarks buckled to garbage, she’s still not quite believing it.

It had been hard enough, reaching him. The city has become, yet again, a no-fly zone. The jet had had to land in a private strip in Paramus, and then she’d had to make her way through the terror-stricken stop-and-go traffic all the way across the George Washington Bridge and through into Manhattan.

The Tony that greets her is pale, bruised. Haunted. They’re in an as-yet-unused conference on a lower level, a room the does not even have permanent light fixtures, although someone has dragged in several of the sofas that had been placed in the offices around it to form a rudimentary circle. One of the couches has several empty gun clips and what looks like an extra-long garotte wire. On another a man is sleeping soundly, face down so that all Pepper can see is a dark mop of unruly hair and a solid body covered in ill-fitted clothing. She shoots Tony a questioning look, tilting her head toward the sleeper.

"S’Bruce," Tony mumbles, looking down. "The rest are off getting cleaned up. Long story, a lot to explain, but you’re gonna like him. Maybe even both of him."

That right there is a statement that would normally make Pepper ask him to elaborate, but in the state he’s in, she doesn’t want to make him do _anything_ he doesn’t want to. So she does as asked and chooses another couch to sit on, this one as far away from the sleeping man as possible. It’s then that she sees in the middle of the room an abandoned oxygen tank. How long had this man she knew far too well - had he really been to space? - tolerated it before tossing it aside? “Tony, if that’s yours then—”

"Just hang on, honey," he says, not dodging or playful, just with a bone-deep weariness that scares her. "I really need to tell you something. Something happened. On top of the four-armed aliens turning most of the city into scrap metal."

Pepper Potts is no stranger to bad news, or violence, or even death, but when Tony tells her that Phil Coulson is dead, killed in the line of duty literally trying to save the world, it’s a whole new level of horrible. Phil saved her life, saved _Tony’s_ life, and beyond that debt she considers him a true friend. She sits in shocked silence for nearly a full minute before the white noise in her ears starts to wain.

"Is there…..does he have family that needs to be told?"

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t know. I bet if there is, S.H.I.E.L.D. will be on top of it. Pep, I’m so sorry.”

"We were going to have lunch on Wednesday," she looks down, her own voice sounding in her ears like an echo from half a mile away. "Although I suspect the restaurant is probably destroyed now, so…"

A hand moves into her field of vision to clasp her own in her lap. “Pepper.”

She looks into Tony’s eyes as he kneels gingerly in front of the sofa. There’s a deep scratch along his hairline, only partially covered in medical gauze. There’s a hectic red around his eyes. His breath has the cloying, acidic smell of vomit to it, but with no hint of alcohol beneath. He’s really been in a battle, she realizes, a battle of overwhelming odds in his garish armor, with only five others on his side. But she’d seen an enormous ogre of a creature crushing enemies between his fingers, a godlike man with a warhammer, a flag-clad gladiator with superhuman strength. But beneath his shell, Tony Stark is just a man.

Just like Phil Coulson had been. These brave, wonderful, _stupid_ men that she’d come to care for. She had even liked Obediah Stane a great deal, before everything about him had come into the light, and still felt a deep pit in her soul at the part she’d played in his end, even as she felt no blame toward Tony for it.

She pulls him into a hug at that thought. _No more,_ she prays. Maybe there’s still a God up there, even as they seem to be raining from the sky. _Please no more_. Her eyes well up as he clasps her to him. He is shaking in her arms. She buries her face in his shoulder and lets out a soft whimper. Her friend is _gone_. Thousands of people died yesterday, are still dying in hospitals beds or unfound under collapsed buildings, but she can only think on one, a thin, businesslike man with an amused, respectful voice. And she grieves.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally sat on this idea for two years before finally writing it down in less than two hours.


End file.
